Yuffie and Vincent A Larry and Steve parody
by iguanablogger
Summary: After watching the 1996 cartoon, "Larry and Steve", I just couldn't help myself. So I rewrote the entire script and replaced the cynical, ill-fated talking dog with Vincent Valentine, and the frugal, somewhat insane old man with Yuffie Kisaragi. Hope you enjoy.


A hesitant, clawed finger taps against the glass of the camera's lens.

"Hello? Is this on?"

After waiting a few moments for the proper response (which was a complete lack of response at all), the speaker backs away from the recording device. He is revealed to be a male in his mid-twenties, decked in a crimson cloak. An expression of anxiety tightens his face, which is pale in color and dotted with two dark eyes. His long, raven hair is kept at bay by a head wrap.

He clears his throat, making way for a soft yet deep voice.

"My name is Vincent Valentine and I have a few problems, er…" He pauses and mumbles, "…relating to people."

"I came _this _close to meeting my maker this morning," Vincent holds up two golden tipped fingers within a centimeter of each other for reference.

"You see, I used to live in an asylum. I'm not proud of it, but it's the truth."

The asylum was a narrow hallway lined with cells (or cages, depending on how you looked at it). Visitors were free to stroll up and down the walkway and take ganders at the inmates, most of which are completely incapable of communicating successfully. A balding man with pupil-less eyes barked at whomever passed him, spraying a foam of saliva into the hall. Another patient whimpered incessantly and gnawed on the bars of her cell.

Then there's Vincent, who was calmly seated on his cage's flat bed reading a book. He couldn't care less for the people who came to stare at him.

"My number was up," Vincent narrates, "and they were coming to take me away for good."

When the gravity of this situation finally penetrating Vincent, he realized it was time to escape. He stood from his bed and approached the bars, leaning on them somewhat in order to get a better look down the way.

"Hey," He called out, "Anyone want to take me home with them?"

An elderly couple walked by cautiously.

"I can do your taxes." Vincent offered.

They shuffled away.

After a few more failed attempts, Vincent was forced to rethink his escape strategy.

"Not a single one of them could understand me; to them I was only speaking gibberish." Continues the narration. "I honestly thought I was done for…until Yuffie showed up."

The speaker closes his eyes and uses his gloved hand to massage his temple, "And thus began the ugliest day of my life."

"Hey, cool! You can speak English!"

Vincent looked up to find a young woman on the other side of his door. She was quite jubilant, with large grey eyes, mud colored hair and a grin that Vincent believed should belong on _his _portion of the hallway.

"What?" He blurted stupidly, looking his potential savior over.

"You know, there was a guy in here a few weeks ago what spoke German, but," she laughed in a silly manner and waved a hand, "couldn't understand a word he was saying-"

Not one to waste time, Vincent stuck his hands between the bars and lunged forward, seizing the girl by her collar and bringing her in close.

"Listen to me," he said urgently, "if you don't get me out of here within the next few hours I will be _put to sleep,_ are you lis- do you understand me?"

The young woman blinked.

"You will be _indirectly responsible _for the resulting euthanization." Vincent pointed out grimly.

"…I guess I've always wanted a roommate?"

"Just my luck," Vincent mutters, folding his arms, "the only person who could hear me had the intelligence quota of a cooked carrot."

"Anyway, Yuffie took me back to her 'quality apartment' downtown…"

It was small, cramped, and Vincent practically had to bend over to get through any doorways. But it was better than the asylum, and it was certainly better than being put to death.

"Here ya are," Yuffie presented grandly, apparently having completely forgotten being threatened, "it's got everything a room needs."

Vincent studied his new room with interest. A shoddy tv in one corner, a desk lamp by the window and a sturdy-looking bed pressed up to the wall.

"It's…nice."

"Great, you're all set then."

As Yuffie turned to leave, the tv blew itself out, the desk lamp combusted, and a spring coated with rust burst from the bed and clocked Vincent in the nose. The man hit the ground so fast he swore his skull cracked.

With a hand held sensitively to his nose, which was bleeding profusely, Vincent said:

"Yuffie, we need to address this problem."

"Ohmygod, you're right, Vincent!" The young woman exclaimed, rushing to his side and pulling him into a sitting position. She quickly fetched a damp towel for his face. As soon as the blood was gone and the lightheaded feeling left him, Yuffie continued: "We need to do something!"

Vincent sniffed and then blinked slowly. He watched as his new roommate-slash-landlady frowned in consternation. If he squinted hard enough, he could see little grey gears running in the back of her eyes.

"…What are we going to do?" She asked him finally.

"Let's go shopping."

"Shopping, yeah! That's exactly what I was thinking!"

And so after getting Vincent something to drink, the two were fastened into Yuffie's bolt-bucket car and speeding down the road. As they proceeded to drive, Vincent couldn't help prodding some of the documents on the dashboard.

"Yuffie, it says here that your license is expired." Vincent stated, picking at a letter dated several months ago.

"Oh that," She responded distractedly, "Yeah, they just put it away temporarily."

While Vincent sort of doubted that, he didn't say anything.

"Let's see now," Yuffie murmured to herself as her hand groped around the seat for a catalog, "where to shop, where to shop…"

It disturbed Vincent how little thought she seemed to give the road as they whizzed along, but again he stayed silent. All he could do was roll his eyes as the impending flood of self-pity washed in.

"You know, Cid's usually has good stuff…"

Look at her, he thought to himself. The girl was barely even tall enough to fit behind the wheel of a car, and yet there she was managing with two fingers and using the rest of her limbs to flip through the magazine's pages, scanning furtively. A cursory glance towards the street gave Vincent a good view of the sign that blared: 'fork ahead'.

His eyes all but popped out of their sockets as the meaning of that message sunk into him.

"They always jack up the air conditioners there, though, only thing I don't like about that place…"

"Yuffie!" Vincent yelped in alarm, frantically tapping his companion on the bicep. Meanwhile, up ahead the road split into two different directions, neither of which were supported by the craft's current course.

"Hey, Vinnie, cut that out! I just got a tetanus shot there the other-"

Vincent took his final moment to throw the crook of his elbow over his eyes.

The automobile ran directly into a tree and split in two. However this did not stop its momentum, and instead each half of the car proceeded in the opposite direction.

Upon realizing that he had not died, Vincent removed his arm from his sight. A loud and deafening whoosh sounded in his ears, but Vincent assumed that was merely the effect of a near-death experience.

He heaved a sigh of relief, "Yuffie, next time be more careful-"

It was then he noticed two very important things: one, he was only sitting in half of a vehicle, and two: he was flying forward at over sixty miles an hour. Vincent's jaw dropped as the wind rushed around him, flinging his hair back as he catapulted straight.

The crazy doom ride from hell continued, following the contour of the road somehow and then flying off a hill. The bi-car flopped into some grasslands and kept going, apparently having been comprised of 'tougher stuff' than gravity. Vincent shielded his face once more as he barged through one side of a suburban house and out the other.

He took a second after clearing the house to look around, making sure that no part of himself nor the car had been left behind. Once satisfied, he turned back to the windshield to find that the automobile was now headed for a stockpile of dynamite.

Vincent Valentine shrieked like a little girl, and then remarked:

"Wait a minute, isn't that just a bit contriv-"

He did not have enough time to finish his sentence, because at that moment the car and the dynamite met and Vincent was sent flying upwards. He wrenched his eyes shut and waited for his life to end. The piece of wreckage flipped once, twice in midair before crashing to the ground in a poof of smoke.

The landing zone was the parking lot some kind of store, but Vincent didn't care about that. What he cared about, sucking in shallow breath after shallow breath and brushing charcoal from his body, was that he had somehow managed to survive the entire ordeal.

But before he could completely appreciate the sudden calm, an enormous hunk of metal came flying down the slope.

Miraculously, this turned out to be the opposite half of the car. Even _more _miraculously, it landed completely parallel to Vincent's half, so that if it weren't for the laceration down the middle of the vehicle, the whole event might not have happened.

"I dunno, Vince, I just can't find anything." Yuffie huffed, throwing the magazine into her lap. Vincent only stared at her in awe, bits of ash floating down from his cheeks.

"Hey, what about that place?" Yuffie suggested brightly, pointing a finger at the store whose parking lot they currently occupied.

It was a promising building, slathered in cheap, tapioca paint and sporting a label that read: 'Quality Furniture'.

After cleaning Vincent up a touch and making sure both of his knees supported him, Yuffie entered the store. She inhaled deeply and absorbed her surroundings. It was your average furniture selection: divided into the 'living room' wing, 'dining area' wing, and a set up in the front from kitchen appliances. Vincent observed it all with dull eyes.

Without warning, an energetic woman with bright green eyes and braided hair leapt from behind a sofa and waved madly:

"Hi there! Welcome to Quality Furniture, only the best in quality affordable items and customer service." She giggled and struck a pose. "I'm Aeris! How can I help you?"

"Goodness, she's rather spritely isn't she?" Vincent uttered under his breath.

"Aw, isn't that cute!" Aeris cooed, pressing both hands to her bosom and laughing happily. She batted her eyelashes at Yuffie and added, "Your werewolf walks on two legs!"

"'Isn't that cute'," Vincent repeated, offended, "I could-"

Aeris stared as a string of incoherent words left Vincent's mouth.

"-Wade my feet in your makeup."

"Relax, Vinnie," Yuffie warned, patting her friend on the shoulder. To Aeris, she said with a smile: "Actually, we need to find a bed."

"Oh," Aeris mouthed, face brightening as though blessed with an epiphany. She giggled again, "Well, then follow me." And then she pranced away.

Eventually, Aeris the helpful saleswoman led them to a pink, harmless looking bed in the center of the bedroom aisle.

"This is a massage-mattress, our newest item in stock."

Yuffie grinned and patted the bed's quilt repetitively.

"Oh man, that sounds comfortable!" She hoisted herself onto it and planted her head in a pillow. "Hey, Vince, why don't you turn it on?"

"Okay," Vincent shrugged and pressed the 'start' button on the side of the bed's frame.

Instantly, a set of cartoon-like hands deployed from the base of the divan and gently gripped Yuffie's shoulders and lower back, moving in rhythmic circles.

"Oh," she moaned, then chuckled, "Ohmygod, oh that feels good." Yuffie's eyes rolled with pleasure.

"Vincent, you've got to try this!" She insisted enthusiastically.

"Uh, no thanks." Vincent replied.

"Come on," Yuffie pleaded, hopping off the bed and giving it a series of quick pats, "Come on, come on, come on! You'll love it!" she promised.

"Well…" Vincent inhaled and rested one of his hands on the furniture's quilt. It seemed comfortable enough. "…Oh, alright."

He reluctantly climbed onto the bed and lay face down on the pillow. His body tingled as Yuffie mashed the button and he sensed the large, disembodied fingers coming at him. But to his surprise, the sensation was not unpleasant.

While Yuffie had received a circular massage, the hands seemed able to sense the difference in Vincent's weight and height, and so instead kneaded through the tense muscles of his back.

"Ooh," Vincent flinched as a joint he hadn't even noticed had been bothering him snapped back into place. It was a bit rough at first, but in truth the feeling was something wonderful. "Ah, that's actually rather nice."

"See? See? There ya go," Yuffie remarked to Aeris, who watched proudly. "I knew he'd like it."

The young woman inadvertently leaned against a display of buttons that, unfortunately, was hooked up to the massage-mattress. Her elbow pushed against the switch marked 'high', and thus began Vincent's torment.

The hands paused and then set to work at fifty times their previous speed. Before Vincent could be effectively ground into the bedspread, a glitch occurred in which the mechanical arms tried to refold themselves. However their grip on Vincent's body was too strong, and so when they let go of him said man slingshot-ted into a wall across the store.

Vincent peeled from the wall like paint and collapsed onto the ground face up. A cheap light fixture stared down at him, though for a few seconds it appeared more like three cheap light fixtures. Vincent worked hard to clear the black splotches from his vision as a face loomed above his.

"See? Now was that therapeutic or what?" A familiar, moronic voice asked, "How do you feel, Vince?"

"Like Agamemnon after the fury of Clytemnestra."

"Yeah, I know." Yuffie agreed, then her brows knit together and she asked: "Who?"

"It's a tragedy." Vincent answered while prodding various appendages to ensure they weren't permanently out of use.

"Oh." Yuffie nodded slowly. Her eyes darted from right to left in hesitant confusion. She swallowed and then wondered, "Is, er…everyone alright?"

Vincent could only lower his eyelids and stare.

"This light is perfect for the avid reader," Aeris proclaimed in the living room wing twenty minutes later. Yuffie noted the average lamp in her hands with eager attentiveness.

Aeris gave a little giggle, "With directional adjustability and variable intensity!"

"Hey, I bet if you used one of these big bulbs it'd work even better, right?" Yuffie suggested, plucking a light fixture the size of her head from a shelf.

Aeris' cheery exterior fell flat as she corrected, "That's an eight-hundred-watt bulb, ma'am-"

"You can't put an eight-hundred-watt bulb in a lamp that size." Vincent pointed out hotly. He was even so bold as to reach out to take it from her.

However, Yuffie would hear no discouragement.

"Whoa, whoa, Vinnie," The woman protested, shoving Vincent's gauntleted hand away, "I think I know what I'm talking about."

At Vincent and Aeris' cynical glares, Yuffie continued: "I mean, I didn't spend twelve years in kindergarten because I was stupid."

"Why then?" Asked Vincent, eyebrows raised.

"I got my foot caught in a radiator, now give me that."

With no one quick enough to stop her, Yuffie grabbed the lamp and removed its light source, replacing it with the much larger one. All watched in trepidation as she flicked the lever to the 'on' position.

A beam of radioactive light shot directly up from the lamp and penetrated the ceiling of the establishment. A few of the top hairs on Yuffie's head were fried from the intense heat, but all she could do was smile.

"Oh man!" She cackled, "This is so awesome! Look at this!"

She moved the lamp about in her hands, adjusting the beam's aim so that it practically obliterated the bedroom aisle.

"What do you think, Vincent?" She yelled, tipping the lamp in his direction.

He immediately dropped to the floor and shielded his head (just in time, as a bisected shelf came tumbling around him).

Aeris ran for cover as Yuffie continued to swing the lamp-slash-sword around.

"Haha!" The girl shouted triumphantly, "Look at me, the great ninja Yuffie! Cutting whole buildings in half with _light!" _

Eventually, the floor was not safe enough a place. Vincent rolled to the side in order to evade a falling pot set. Unfortunately, this led him straight down a flight of stairs. Vincent winced as the sharp-edged steps cut into his ribs and shoulder blades, but that was nothing compared to his landing.

A television set caught him with open arms but did little to stop his momentum. Instead he rocketed onto a couch, which he ricocheted off of and sped into an office chair. The chair didn't miss a beat, shooting down the aisle and catapulting Vincent headfirst into the restroom.

Vincent was not afraid to admit that he blacked out at that point; unable to withstand the intense speed and pressure his body was being subjected to. When his senses returned, he was lying on the tiled floor of the washroom and slowly drowning in a puddle of toilet water.

The battered male picked himself up, carefully favoring the right section of his ribcage, and trudged back to the store's exit. He'd almost made it when Yuffie intercepted him.

"Oh hey, Vince," She began, completely oblivious to his tortured state, "My card was declined, so we'll have to come back next week."

"Bye, now! Thanks for shopping Quality!" Aeris giggled madly and waved them farewell.

"So there you have it," Vincent concludes, now much more relaxed in front of the camera than he was previously, "living with Yuffie is hazardous to my health." He sags a little, "But since no one else out there can hear me, I'm stuck with her."

"I guess the whole point of this video is: if by chance there is someone out there who can understand me, won't you help me out?" Vincent asks fairly, "I'm quiet, I don't leave the seat up, and I'm well versed in the works of Chaucer."

Vincent opens his mouth to add more, but at that moment he's interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open. A young woman with large grey eyes enters the frame, though only the top half of her head is visible.

"Hey, Vinnie, whatcha doing?"

"Yuffie, could you please-"

"Oh look, your tripod's loose," Yuffie comments, then disappears from view. A loud set of twisting and scraping noises ensue from somewhere offscreen, and then Vincent's head shifts to rest at an eighty-degree angle.

"There ya go."

Yuffie stands back and grins to admire her work.

Then the entire message is reduced to static, with only two words from each speaker audible:

"Oops."

"Idiot."


End file.
